Gumshoe
by DarkwingPsycho
Summary: Negaduck and Jake are at war for control of the city while PI Jacob Mallard is on the case to find a missing sorceress and solve the murder of Chief Agent Gryzlikoff. At the same time, Darkwing follows a few red herrings for added hilarity. COMPLETE! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** When I first put up this story, I noticed some apparent confusion among the reviewer community. In an attempt to clear things up, let me say firstly that none of my stories really have a universal timeline or a cohesive format. Just think of this bit of fanfiction as you would think of "Darkwing Doubloon" in the series. An offshoot set in a different era using the same characters.

With that said, this story will be told from three points of view, all changing intermittently throughout. To keep them all straight, here are the guidelines:

Jacob Mallard, P.I. is normal font.  
**Negaduck is in bold font.  
**_Jake Mallard is in italics._

Darkwing Duck, Negaduck, J. Gander Hooter, Agent Gryzlikoff, Bionca Beakley, Tom Lockjaw, and the Fearsome Five are property of the Walt Disney Company and are used without permission. (Don't shoot!)

Jacob Mallard and Ariana McCawber are the sole intellectual property of myself, Amanda Rohrssen. Please be nice and don't steal them. Otherwise I'll sic Gumbo on you.

Jake Mallard and Ava Blackfeather/Moore are the sole intellectual property of Rachel Faraday, and they are used with permission. (Thank you!) Be sure to check out her story, _The Path of Consequence_!

* * *

**Gumshoe**

The incessant ticking was driving me insane.

The crossword puzzle before me had proven to be a worthy foe, and for what had to be the hundredth time that morning I found my mind wandering. There had been no work for two weeks straight now, and my office was looking more and more like a disaster area the more I tried to keep myself occupied. Though they were glazed, my eyes traveled over every square inch of my miserable little niche, searching once again for something – anything – to make the hours pass a little faster.

Amid the piles of hastily thrown documents and haphazardly stacked files, patches of dark carpet peeked through, and if one looked hard enough through the mass of hastily scrawled notes on top of my desk, one could find a framed photograph or two of friends and family long since departed from my life.

The insufferable ticking would not end.

I glared at the clock on the wall, hoping that my fervent stare would make its hands whirl by in a vain attempt at time warp. No such luck. My gaze seemed only to turn its slowness into an agonizing crawl.

Sighing, I folded my hands behind my head and propped my feet up on the rosewood desk, eyeing the ornately chiseled border work with disinterest. Just as I actually began toying with the idea of cleaning up the place, there was a knock at the door. It was so soft that at first I wasn't sure if it really was a knock or the old office settling, but the silhouette shadowing the frosted window of the doorway told me that, as usual, my first instinct had been correct.

"Door's open!" I shouted, too lazy to move from my position.

It cracked open hesitantly. There behind the threshold stood what had to be one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen in my fifty-five years on this earth. The dim light of the hallway poured down over the cascading locks of her golden hair, and her slender, hourglass figure was accentuated perfectly in the square frame of the doorway.

"Mr. Mallard?" she said in a wavering voice.

I bolted out of my chair, banging my knee against the desk in the process, and hobbled toward her, managing to maintain at least a little dignity by motioning her inside with a courteous sweep of my hand.

"Well, you can read. That's a plus," I joked lightly as I shut the door behind her.

She regarded me tearfully. Her eyes were two gleaming pools of precious silver, and there was such sadness in them I could scarcely escape them tugging at my heartstrings. I cleared my throat and broke eye contact, making my way round the piles of junk back behind my desk.

"Well, little lady, what brings you here?"

When things got uncomfortable, I liked to get straight to the point.

"It's my…my sister," she replied, unable to hold back the tears any longer. I offered her a handkerchief as they spilled down her face in clear twin streams. Strangely enough, they only made her seem more beautiful.

"Your, your sister…?" I prompted her.

"She's missing!"

"…is missing," I repeated.

"For a few days now. I've looked everywhere!" She dabbed at her eyes with a small sniffle.

I frowned. There were more important things I could be doing than spending my valuable time and energy on a missing person. Missing persons came a dime a dozen. Finding them was the job of rookie flatfoots, not a master sleuth. I was more worthy of a national conspiracy, murder, intrigue, terrorism…

"Have you tried the local department store?" I asked her snidely. My sarcasm only seemed to upset her more, and I felt a dull twinge of guilt in the pit of my stomach, which only made me more agitated. "Look, the police handle things like that. _I_, on the other hand, am a professional."

"I think she was kidnapped," the young woman continued as if I'd said nothing at all.

"And you know this because…?"

"A few things are missing from her house…but nothing was ransacked. They were just…gone, like her."

"What if she went on vacation, did you ever think of that?"

Her blonde head shook miserably from side to side.

"No…she would have said something. She's just…gone."

"No ransom note, no eerie phone calls?"

Again her bent head indicated no.

This was turning out to be a bigger and bigger waste of my time. If there were no clues on which to build, there was no case.

"Look, she's probably just gone to a local resort or something. She'll turn up in a few days," I said, ushering the young beauty back toward the door. "Good day, Miss…?"

"McCawber," she said solemnly, as if all the hope had been sucked out of her. At the moment, I didn't really care. I'd just suddenly come up with a four letter word for "fall guy."

"Good day, Miss McCawber."

The door shut somberly behind her and I returned to my crossword with a vengeance.

* * *

**It didn't take long to get past the guards. Like most of the so-called authority figures in Saint Canard, they were incompetent and easily bribed. I stuck mostly to the shadows once I gained access to the SHUSH laboratory, not because I feared getting caught – oh no – it was because I enjoyed the fear on the faces of my victims as I attacked from the darkness. Maneuvering through the facility was easy enough, and it wasn't long before I found what I was looking for. A devious grin snaked across my bill. It was like taking candy from a baby, another one of my favorite pastimes. There was only one part remaining to my perfectly executed plan. **

* * *

"Double bourbon, on the rocks," I mumbled to the barkeep.

"Right away, boss," he replied in his ever-cheerful voice. Sometimes the man made me sick. He cocked his head to the side as he poured the liquor. "You feelin' all right?"

I eyed the beverage hungrily. "Not particularly."

"Everythin' goin' okay?"

"Not particularly."

"Any reason for that, boss?"

"Just gimme the drink, Charlie," I sighed. It went down cold and smooth against the back of my throat, and I licked my lips for any remnants lest they escape me.

I'd received another notice that morning. Rent was past due.

I ran my fingers through the slicked back feathers on my head, as I was prone to do when I felt anxious, and let my gaze wander over the faces of the less-than-respectable patrons of the Old Haunt. I'd been coming to this place for the better part of thirty-three years. It had been like my second home after the deaths of my wife and daughter, and now with my business being threatened by bankruptcy, it was quickly turning into my safe haven yet again.

"Anything goin' on I should know about?" I asked offhandedly.

"Nothin' that I've heard, but that don't mean nothin's happenin'." He filled up my glass again.

Charlie oftentimes made a good informant, being the bartender of the local backstreet pub. In exchange for tips on the crime circuit, I'd make sure certain activities in the bar were kept on the down-low as far as the authorities were concerned. Having been an officer of the law myself at one time, I had no problem turning the skills I'd learned in training against the force, although it didn't take a genius to fool the cops in this town.

The second glass of bourbon went down faster than the first, and though my gut yearned for more of the stuff, I waved away the refill the barkeep tried to offer me.

"I'm done for tonight, Charlie," I said, lugging myself off of the stool. "I think I'll take a walk around the city before I head home."

"Okay, boss, you take it easy now."

I turned to make my leave, but as I slid my black fedora over my head, something crumpled on the ground caught my eye. I snatched it up, my eyes darting to those surrounding me, and unwrinkled the small piece of paper. Written in jagged, yet elegant, script was an address. I pocketed it with the intention of checking it out later in case it was a lead.


	2. Chapter 2

**FEARSOME FIVE STRIKES SHUSH**

_The newspaper dissolved into a crinkled mass between my hands, and I threw it angrily in the trash bin beside my desk._

_Damn headlines._

_The boy was growing more and more bold, I had to give him that. But it was becoming necessary to put him in his place. The past few months he and his gang had been steadily chipping away at my empire. Well, this time they were biting off more than they could chew. Something had to be done to ensure that the Fearsome Five _and_ the citizens of Saint Canard remembered who was in charge of this city. And to do that, I would need some inside information, the kind that couldn't be bought or beaten out of worthless civil servants. It was time to call in a favor. _

* * *

I double and triple checked the address in my hand, then squinted across the street to make sure for the thousandth time that I was on the right corner. I was in the correct place all right, but what exactly I was looking for escaped me. What the hell did a pastry shop have to do with anything? Was it one of the places on a shakedown list? Was it the favorite pit stop of an undercover cop? I'd already interviewed the owner with absolutely nothing to show for it. At least I knew he wasn't being harassed for "insurance" payments like a few other places in town had been.

I tucked the little piece of paper in my pocket, turned up my collar, and headed home. I had so hoped that this would lead me to a case. If nothing came up soon, I'd be sleeping in a cardboard box. So much for the great Jacob Mallard.

* * *

_The portal gave off a ghostly green glow as it opened a gateway to the Negaverse. I grinned as it bathed my malevolent face in the sickly, pale color. It had been a long time since I'd seen anyone from my hometown, and I was anxiously anticipating the arrival of the person traveling through. A devious plan was formulating in my mind, and she would be a crucial part of it. I knew that despite everything that had happened between us in the past, I could count on her. She was the best the Negaverse had to offer – aside from myself._

_A cold wind blasted through the small backroom, chilling my feathers like a sigh of Death, but it didn't faze me. All of my attention was on the ghoulish dimensional hole._

_It wasn't long before I could make out the top of an ebony head rising out of the frothy green swirls. My grin broadened as my eyes traveled over her sleek, feminine figure as she emerged bit by bit. It had been some time since my green eyes had pierced her irises._

"_I have a job for you, my dear," I crooned darkly._

_She returned my stare balefully. "It had better be worth my time."_

_A twisted smile crossed my beak. "It will be worth more than your time, I assure you…"_

* * *

"…and in other news, Chief Agent Gryzlikoff of SHUSH was murdered last night in his single-bedroom apartment in the Northern Shoveller Complex, just hours after he returned home from work."

Though normally the voice of Tom Lockjaw grated on my nerves, there were a few times when he actually caught my attention rather than repelled it. This was such a time.

I'd known Agent Gryzlikoff. Not very well, but I'd still known him. Always did things by the book, extremely wrapped up in his work, no personal life of which to speak. I had always had a sneaking, underlying suspicion that it was for those reasons that my longtime friend J. Gander Hooter had made old Gryz the Chief Agent in the first place. They could identify with one another.

"Police have no suspects thus far in the killing, but rumors have been flying around the city linking the SHUSH agent to public enemy and malcontent Jake Mallard. The investigation is still pending. We will bring you more, as the news develops."

Immediately ideas began to swim through my muddled mind, but the jarring voice of the reporter kept intruding. He was blathering something about the unveiling of some exotic whatchamacallit at the museum in a week or so. I turned the set off to let my mind calculate in piece. I missed Bionca Beakley. Now _she_ had a voice.

An hour later I was infiltrating the crime scene, slyly making my way through the yards of yellow police tape and past officers with better things on their minds like how far away the nearest doughnut shop was. I applauded myself for my ability to slip into places without detection.

"Mallard!"

Oh, great.

I turned around coolly to gaze at my old friend.

"Hello, John. I didn't expect the director to be pulled out of his office for a murder. Usually it's something much worse like anthrax or terrorism."

The gander stared at me with a pursed bill. Apparently he didn't see the humor in the situation.

"Agent Gryzlikoff was one of our finest," he began in a huff, but I decided that was a boring subject.

"And how was our, ahem, _rotund_ friend bumped off?"

"Shot through the head – twice. Pointblank."

I winced. "That's gotta hurt."

"We've retrieved the bullets. We should have results soon." Then he turned toward me, his back stiffening. "Now I'll thank you to leave this crime scene. You're trespassing on SHUSH business."

He never let me have any fun where SHUSH was involved. Still, a mallard's gotta try.

* * *

**I sneered as Steelbeak was escorted into my office.**

"**Search him," I said smoothly, leaning back in my overlarge leather chair while Bushroot and Megavolt patted Jake's lackey down.**

**Steelbeak worked for F.O.W.L., but I knew he was on Jake Mallard's payroll as well. Most everyone had a duel check coming in these days.**

"**He's clean, boss," Bushroot reported tentatively. The knob was always terrified of me. In fact, they all were. I liked that in a gang.**

"**Leave us," I ordered darkly as I sat up. The two henchmen scrambled out the door.**

**Steelbeak regarded me coolly, but I could tell I intimidated him. I could practically smell fear underneath that cloud of cheap cologne he wore. A slow, venomous grin curled across my bill.**

"**I'm here wit' a message from Jake Mallard," he announced in that irritatingly pinched voice of his.**

"**No kidding," I drawled carelessly. Unlike his, my voice had the distinct quality of sending shivers through spines like nails on a chalkboard. "Let me guess. 'This town's not big enough for the two of us,' heh."**

"**He wants ya ta stay offa his toif, or else. Capishe?"**

"**Or else what? What's the old man gonna do, cane me to death?" I chuckled.**

**Steelbeak was growing visibly frustrated with my glaringly superior wit. I grinned, satisfied.**

"**He's gonna start pickin' youse guys off, one by one. I'd watch my back if I was you."**

"**And I'd watch your **_**front**_**!" I pulled a large Uzi from behind my desk. Steelbeak stiffened. I had deadly aim and he knew it. I could have shot him right then as a message to my sorry excuse for a father, but I decided it would be much more fun to watch the metal-mouth scurry out of my office with his tail feathers between his legs.**

**The blast rocked the building, sending mortar and plaster raining down from the ceiling. Quackerjack burst through the door to see whether or not I'd been assassinated. The hopeful glint in his eyes died when he saw that I was the triggerman.**

**Steelbeak stood before the gaping hole in front of him, and had he had a normal beak, his nostrils would have been filled with the stink of gunpowder. I loved that smell. In fact, I thrived on it. It sent a wild rush of madness through me.**

"**Tell your boss," I said evenly, "that he should enjoy the view from his throne while he can. There's going to be a new King of Crime in St. Canard very soon."**

**By then the F.O.W.L. agent had regained his composure, and he glowered at me as he dusted off his Armani suit.**

"**Ya shoulda stayed away from SHUSH, Negs. You're gonna pay big time."**

**He disappeared from my view (and my aim), and I started cackling. His petty threats didn't scare me, and neither did my second-rate crime boss of a father. It was time to put my old man in his place – six feet under.**

**The thought reminded me of something, and I pushed the button just under my desktop. The wall behind me slid open to reveal my hostage.**

**I came toward her, ignoring her muffled snarls, and ran my fingers gruffly through her black hair before I grabbed a fistful and yanked her head back.**

**As I stared into her fearful eyes, I grinned in triumph. It wouldn't be long now.**

* * *

I jiggled the doorknob fiercely as the lock pick squirmed inside the miniscule hole. My ear pressed firmly against the door, I waited in anticipation for the soft "click." It seemed like I had been jimmying the lock for ages before at last I heard the sound I'd been waiting for.

With a self-congratulatory smile, I let myself inside of Gryzlikoff's apartment, set on completing my own search of the crime scene. Naturally the police had searched the immediate areas around the body, but my years on the force told me the more extensive searches were usually less-than-thorough, not to mention that half of the police force had their pockets filled with illegal bribes. Hypocrites. It was the main thing that had driven me to strike out on my own. That and all the damn paperwork.

My scrutiny led me from one end of the apartment to the other. The living room, the kitchen, the bedroom, the bath – even Gryzlikoff's home office offered up no clues for the motive behind his murder. Perhaps it was simply vengeance for someone he'd put away. Such things were common in St. Canard. That was why it was so dangerous to be one of the few honest men left – and even I had my moments. But the ends always justified the means.

I had just about given up hope of finding anything that might lead me to a paycheck when my foot caught the edge of the rug and my body was pitched forward awkwardly. Grumbling, I sat up to inspect my twisted ankle when I caught a glimpse of something that brought an excited spark to my black eyes. In an instant I was on my hands and knees, shoving back the disgustingly spotless rug to reveal a small trap door, no wider than two boards and three hand lengths in the hardwood flooring.

"Well, well," I crooned to myself. "What have we here?"

My wizened fingers removed the precisely cut boards with a deft swiftness that only came from years of experience, and eagerly I removed the contents of the compartment.

It was a folder, jammed up with so many papers that its edges were beginning to tear and its middle bulged like the Chief of Police's gut. The first handful of pages I removed all had the SHUSH logo printed at the top. My gaze scanned down for more, and below those I discovered bank statements. Each page held a puzzle piece, and it wasn't long before they all fell into place. I lifted my eyes, staring across the room at nothing at all.

"Son of a gun…"


	3. Chapter 3

"_Checkmate," I sneered, sitting back and enjoying the sound the leather made as it molded to my body._

_She frowned, determined to find some way to escape defeat. It was the quality I most admired in her._

_The gratifying feeling of having outsmarted her for once didn't last long. My office door sprung open wide so fast that the doorknob slammed into the wall, leaving a deep impression._

"_Boss, we got a problem."_

_I scowled, eyeing the now marred surface of the wall._

"_What now?" I demanded, keeping my voice steady yet firm._

"_That private detective Jacob Mallard's sniffin' around ol' Gryz's place. I think he found somethin' he shouldn'ta."_

"_And?" I said with raised eyebrows, taking a sip of Jack Spaniels._

"_A-and?" the single-minded lackey repeated dumbly._

_My grip tightened around my glass, but I got the better of my temper. I'd chosen these henchmen precisely for their devastatingly unimpressive IQs._

"_And," I elaborated calmly, "did you make sure he'd know not to further pursue this 'something'?"_

_The fox stared at me blankly. I decided to take a different route._

"_What did the detective find?"_

"_Copies of the stuff Gryz was passin' along to yas from SHUSH."_

_I smirked. It figured that SHUSH's chief agent would be so thorough. "The Feds can't touch me with it now that he's dead. Besides, they won't be able to trace it back to me."_

"_Th-there was somethin' else in dere, Boss."_

"_Oh? And what's that?"_

"_Records. Payment records. And your collection notices."_

_For an instant I felt cold, weightless, almost giddy with the twinge of fear this news brought. But it ran its course and was quickly suppressed. While it escaped my associate's attention, it caught hers. She raised a questioning eyebrow, but I ignored her._

"_Get someone on his tail," I barked. "Now."_

_I'd known it would be wise to have someone keep an eye on the ex-chief agent's old abode. That bear couldn't be trusted even when he was alive. It infuriated me that he'd stashed evidence relating back to me. I should have offed him sooner, but the information he'd retrieved for me had proven useful. _

_Finally I met her curious hazel eyes._

"_It seems your talents are required elsewhere, my dear."_

_I knew Jacob Mallard was no fool. I wasn't taking any chances with him._

_She stood up, her chair dragging roughly across the Persian rug, and smoothed her outfit against her sleek figure._

"_I have a meeting to attend anyway," she replied smoothly, flashing me a devious grin. But it faded as quickly as a lightening strike. "What does it do?"_

"_What?"_

"_The device the Fearsome Five stole from SHUSH. What does it do?"_

_The mention of my ingrate son's turncoat gang made my blood boil. The fact that he had stolen it before I could didn't exactly thrill me, either. I had been planning that heist for nearly a year._

"_What does it matter?" I snapped. "Just stick to your instructions."_

_She looked like she'd been about to make a biting retort, but she wisely held her tongue. If everything went according to the plan slowly forming in my mind, I could kill two birds with one stone. My green eyes crinkled above a calculating smile._

_Perfect._

* * *

I thought about telling J. Gander what I'd found, but the moment quickly passed and, my innate senses told me to see things through on my own. If I involved SHUSH, there'd be all kinds of red tape involved, not to mention bureaucratic paperwork, and the problem with SHUSH was that it ran like the world of crime would wait for orders to be approved before action was taken. But I knew better. You had to catch a crook red-handed, especially in this town. You had to play their game, and you couldn't do that hunched behind a desk nursing paper cuts all day.

I decided to head back to my office where I could think in private. Jake was up to something big here, and my instincts told me the Fearsome Five's heist at SHUSH was connected somehow. Everything pointed back to SHUSH, and to the development of the machine that was now in the clutches of the city's public enemy number one.

What was it, exactly? Why did Jake take such great pains to have information on it? It seemed both of St. Canard's most powerful gangs wanted control of it. I figured I would need more information on the actual weapon before I could proceed in linking the other evidence I had.

I dialed the main line for SHUSH, and then punched in an extension number.

"Yes, Dr. Bellum please," I said to the lab assistant who answered. I waited a long moment as I listened to him on the other end. "All right," I continued calmly, "just have her call Mallard, P.I. when she gets in. She should have my number."

I replaced the receiver in its cradle absently, thinking over what I'd just found out. My instincts were telling me to follow this thread and it would eventually lead me into the web.

I didn't have long to contemplate much else because a sudden knock at the door jarred me out of my thoughts.

"Come in," I snarled toward the doorway, angry that my train of thought had been derailed. I had felt close to a breakthrough.

The frosted glass revealed a hesitant silhouette reaching for the knob, and then the door opened slowly. Inside stepped someone that only made me feel even more agitated.

"Miss McCawber." I had to force my voice to stay even. I didn't have time for any more sob stories.

She took a couple of steps in and eyed me shyly, as if she was afraid I'd suddenly leap at her and devour her head. Untangling her knotted fingers from behind her, she held out a small white cloth toward me gingerly.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she said apologetically in a soft voice, "but I wanted to return this."

Some part of me was amused, and I could feel the tension begin to drain away slowly. I stood up and headed toward her with an outstretched arm to receive the handkerchief.

Her eyes wandered downward inadvertently toward my legs, particularly my left one, and I knew she was just noticing my limp.

"It's all right," I smiled. Her face had flushed bright crimson when she realized I'd observed her staring. "It's an old wound; nothing worth talking about. Just a reminder that nothing is what it seems."

Just as my fingertips brushed the cotton material, the window behind me shattered in the wake of the loud BANG of gunfire.

"Get _down_!" I yelled, leaping at her and pulling her down to the floor. Hovering over her, I listened intently for the sound of any more bullets.

"What was -?"

"Sssh!" I hissed, trying to decipher footsteps from floor creaks.

Our breathing was heavy, and it was hard to silence the pounding in my ears. I'd been shot at before, many times in fact, but that didn't stop the adrenaline from heightening my senses to full capacity.

Multiple pings resounded just outside of the broken glass, and I knew someone was fleeing down the fire escape across the alleyway.

"Hey!" I bellowed, pushing myself up off of the ground and hobbling toward the window as fast as I could manage. But as soon as I got to the window, the only glimpse I could get of the assailant was two pointed horns, curved back in an L shape.

I heard stirring behind me and whipped around, putting my hand to the revolver I kept slung at my waist. I'd forgotten about the girl.

"Are you all right?" I asked her, though I wasn't really so much concerned with her safety as with the identity of the gunman.

"Fine," she said breathlessly as she got to her feet and leaned against the wall. "Why would someone shoot at you? Who was it?"

"Both very good questions, Miss McCawber. Ones I don't doubt I can figure out the answers to in due time. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Her face darkened and her stance grew more resolute. I could tell I wouldn't have any easy time getting rid of her. "My sister is still missing," she said pointedly. I had to keep my eyes from rolling upward in exasperation. "Have you found any leads on her yet? Or have you even bothered looking?"

"I have a heavy caseload at the moment, madam," I said as patiently as I could.

In an instant she'd stuck a fistful of something under my bill.

"I found this under the bed in my sister's bedroom."

The corners of my beak curled up in disgust. What she was showing me was a small mass of long brown hair, very curly.

"So she was brushing her hair and some of it collected under her bed. What do you want me to do, alert Maid Patrol?"

She leaned forward and glared at me directly in the eyes. "Mr. Mallard," she said evenly. "My sister has black hair."

* * *

**  
I thought once again of the plan I was about to set in motion to dethrone my father and take control of this miserable metropolis. In a couple of days every citizen in this city would be eating out of the palm of my hand, and those who wouldn't would have **_**their**_** hands fed to my flesh-hungry Dobermans.**

**There was just one little piece of information I needed to get my hands on before I could set my perfect plan in motion. And it was proving harder to obtain than I had anticipated.**

"**What is **_**with**_** this dame!" I shouted angrily as I paced around my office, surrounded by the rest of the Fearsome Five. "We've tried **_**everything**_** to make her talk – even ****your**_**stupid**_** Mr. History doll," I pointed at Quackerjack with a snarl, "and still nothing!"**

"**It's like her beak's sealed with Wacky Glue, Stu," piped up Quackerjack in Mr. Banana Brain's irritating voice as he waggled the doll in front of me. I glowered at him threateningly until he lowered the ridiculous toy and put it away.**

**Megavolt nodded in agreement. "She's harder to crack than thermoplastic bulbs."**

**I snarled at the lot of them, sending them quaking into a corner.**

"**If you imbeciles don't come up with something fast, you'll wish you had never crossed my path!"**

"**Too late," Megavolt whispered lowly to Bushroot, whose petals were rustling furiously in fear.**

"**Sounds like what you boys need is an expert interrogator."**

**All heads turned toward a sleek figure leaning against the doorway, wearing a gray pantsuit and a red blouse, her blonde hair pulled back loosely in a bun.**

"**Hey, hey, hey!" I protested defensively. "**_**I'm**_** the torture expert around here, sister! And this is a **_**private**_** conversation, so beat it!"**

"**Oh, I think you'll want to talk to me…" she continued nonchalantly, taking off her stylish sunglasses to reveal dramatic hazel eyes underneath. "And if you're such an expert, why hasn't your hostage given you the information you wanted?" There was a hint of a smirk on her bill that infuriated me. Didn't she know who I was!?**

**Just as I opened my bill to tell her off once and for all, she pulled something from her breast pocket that left me momentarily speechless. It was her badge. She was a SHUSH agent.**

**Immediately I whirled on my pathetic minions. "All right!" I bellowed. "Which one of you knobs squealed to the feds?"**

"**But it wasn't us!" Megavolt sputtered, thrusting Bushroot in front of him.**

"**Yeah!" chimed in the green mutant. "We're not stupid enough to rat **_**you**_** out****, Negaduck, honest!"**

"**Three out of five henchmen say it's never a good idea to go against the boss!" Liquidator added, his voice containing more than its usual watery waver.**

**I could feel my temper flaring with white-hot rage, but her voice cut in again, interrupting my tantrum.**

"**They didn't tip me off."**

"**Then **_**who**_**!?" I snapped, turning my fury on her. Then an idea came to me, and instantly the rage melted into complete and utter hatred. I smiled. "The old man." I looked her right in the eye, wanting to slap that patronizing expression off of her face. "Jake sent you here, didn't he? He wants to put me away for cutting in on his operation…"**

"**Actually, I'm here of my own volition," she continued, unperturbed. She pocketed her badge and walked her way inside my office and plopped down in my office chair.**

"**Hey!" I shouted in outrage. "That's **_**my**_**--!"**

"**I'll cut to the quick, Negaduck. I have a proposition for you."**

**I burst into laughter. She couldn't have been serious. Me, work with a **_**dame**_**? "Look lady, I have enough problems keeping track of my worthless compatriots – you think I want some brainless **_**girl**_** following me around? What could you **_**possibly**_** have to offer me, Negaduck – Lord of Crime?"**

**She only smirked and leaned forward.**

"**I have inside access to SHUSH weaponry and security…I could put **_**you**_** in control, and you could cripple the organization from within."**

**I had to admit, I liked where this was going. But I wouldn't be so easily persuaded.**

"**I can bring SHUSH to its knees without any help from the likes of **_**you**_**," I said nastily. "I've already done it once before."**

"**Ah, but you can't infiltrate it as Darkwing Duck again. The vigilante has to be fingerprinted and identified with a retinal scan before even **_**he**_** can enter. Besides…you're running out of time getting that machine working before Jake finds out where you're hiding it and steals it for himself."**

"**What are you talking about?" I snapped. "I had an easy enough time busting in a few days ago! Those saps didn't even see it coming!"**

"**That was a few days ago," she replied matter-of-factly. "They've upped security since then, thanks to you, and now they'll be more vigilant on crime, waiting for you to make your move."**

"**And you'd be willing to crush them from inside before they figure out what I'm up to, is that it?" I sneered, eyeing her through half-lidded, cunning eyes. "What's in it for you?" **

**People never did anything out of the goodness-of-their-hearts. Even so-called kindness was masked by selfish feelings. Kindness could bring feelings of admiration just as easily as deception and malevolence. Goodness was dead. Evil had won out a long time ago. I learned it the hard way. And now, thanks to me, the rest of the city would know it as well.**

**Now her expression shifted somehow, seeming twisted and dark in the light of my cheerless office. It was an expression I often bore myself, and I found that it suited her much more than her other face had.**

"**I want control of everything from Indigo Boulevard to King's Run."**

"**Ah, the upscale district," I mused. "Any particular reason?"**

"**None that concerns you. You just keep up your end and I'll hand you SHUSH on a silver platter."**

**As she and I spoke, the rest of the room's occupants had kept their heads bobbing back and forth between us, but now all eyes were on me. Everything went silent as I took my time considering her offer.**

**Then my trademark grin slithered across my bill beneath cold, ice blue eyes. I held her gaze evenly like a shark eyeing a waterlogged meal.**

"**All right, dollface. You've got your little section of the city…but only **_**after**_** SHUSH is no longer a threat."**

**She nodded once, then smirked coyly around the room before backing out of the door and taking her leave.**

"**I'll be in touch," she said over her shoulder as her footsteps faded down the distance staircase that led out of the building.**

"**I'm sure you will be," I said deridingly, eyes narrowing underneath the brim of my blood-red fedora.**


	4. Chapter 4

The rough, pockmarked wood of the bar felt comforting beneath my fingertips as I waited for the bartender to bring me a double shot of whiskey bourbon. I had made many memories in this old place, both good and bad. I knew all of the gangs that did business here, and of the less-reputable patrons that came merely to drink away their wasted lives, hoping to find peace in the empty solace of gin and vodka. I was well-respected by most in this part of town. They'd even hung a portrait of me above the mantle that housed the faux fireplace. I had my own idea of justice, and the patrons knew that. I helped them where it was warranted, I busted those whose aims went against the code of the streets, and I was fair about it. For information, I would look the other way as they committed felonies in front of me. Men had a business to run here. Who was I to judge them as long as they stayed civil?

Glass touched my fingertips and I lifted my eyes to thank the bartender when I froze, every muscle in my body tensing as the surprise shivered through me. It wasn't the bartender's eyes boring into mine, but a set of small beady black ones that I had seen only a few times before from a distance.

The shock passed and I downed the liquor in one easy swallow.

"Ah, I was wondering when I would have the privilege of making your acquaintance," I mused, leaning back on the stool with a careless expression. "I'd ask your name, but your face says it all." I coolly eyed the chrome beak beneath his narrowed gaze.

"A comedian, are yas?" Steelbeak scowled. "I don't have time fer wisecracks. I got infermation ya might be interested in."

I took a sip of bourbon and let the liquor settle warmly in my stomach before I answered him.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Ah, ah, ah, dis is how we're gonna do t'ings. You gotta do some'n fer me in retoin."

"Naturally," I replied with a smooth nod.

"We – meanin' Jake's reputable faction a gentlemen – get official amnesty from SHUSH. Ya get us dat, I kin make it so's ya kin arrest de Fearsome Five single-handed. You'll be a hero to da city, more so den dat dimwit Darkwing, dat's fer sure." He cackled in his tinny, mechanical voice, which grated on my nerves like a rod on a washboard. His laugh could give anyone a splitting headache.

"What makes you think I can give you boys amnesty?" I asked, taking another mouthful of bourbon whiskey.

Now his metal beak was curled back in a disconcerting grin.

"We know you're in real good wit' de director, so don't even try denyin' it."

"Oh, I'm not," I replied with some amusement. It wasn't the first time a criminal gang had tried to exploit my friendship with J. Gander. "But the director's always been by the book. I doubt I'll have much influence, but I'll see what I can do. I suppose you're not going to give me any leads until then?"

"The Natural History Museum," the rooster said evenly. "Eight o'clock sharp, two nights from now."

It was just enough time for me to figure out why Jake was sending his lackey to sell me such a transparent deal. Then something else came to mind.

"By the way," I said casually, "I don't suppose you know anything about the bullet through my office window earlier today."

"Can't say dat I do. But it's unfortunate ta hear dat." I could tell he was lying, but I let him think he'd fooled me.

I shrugged. "It depends on which end of the lens you're looking through."

My cane clacked rhymically in time with my stride, and each time it hit the pavement it sent a hollow echo off of the surrounding buildings. It was the only sound for blocks, but I barely noticed it. The moon peered out nervously from behind the scattered clouds, grazing the cityscape with a hesitant shade of periwinkle, and shadows swam over the alleyways as I continued past without a second glance.

Pieces of evidence were running through my mind as I tried to assemble the puzzle. It would determine my next move.

A Russian bear blackmailed and assassinated. A dangerous device stolen. A suspicious invitation to the museum. And an unwelcome bullet hole in my office window. What did they all have in common? Where did they link up? Something to do with that machine. And the one person I could talk to about what it did was missing.

I knew it was time to confront Jake Mallard. I had evidence I knew he must want, but he was playing cat and mouse by sending Steelbeak after me with that phony lead. I would have to play their game for now.

I stopped cold. The flutter of a sound had whispered past my keen ears like the low hum of conspiracy. I waited for an indication of an encore, but only the moaning wind obliged. My eyes shrank to slits for an instant; I was growing tired of games.

Keeping my senses alert, I continued on my way as if I had consoled myself that it had merely been the wind. But I knew better.

It wasn't long before I heard it again. The dull scrapings of sound, the faint suggestion of noise, the soft murmur of resonance just over my shoulder. I whirled around and in one swift movement had my pursuer up against a brick wall. It wasn't until my eyes focused in the dim moonlight that I could see a thick curtain of straight crimson hair overshadowing a set of piercing hazel irises. As I glared into her fierce stare, I could feel the pulse in her neck quicken underneath my palm where I held her in place.

"Why are you following me?" I demanded lowly.

"I'm just waiting for you to slip up, you slime bag," she spat vehemently. "I want to be there to slap the handcuffs around your wrists and cart you off to the authorities myself." Her voice contained venom that oozed hate as vibrant as the ruddy hue of her hair.

It took me a moment as her words gored my ears for me to realize her error. I smiled.

"My dear lady, I suggest you take a closer look at my person, for I am not the mallard you are so hoping to ensnare."

"Oh no?" she scoffed. "You look every bit like your mug shot."

"Ah, but you see, the mallard you are looking for is one, Jake Mallard, whereas I am Ja_cob_ Mallard. If you care to notice, there are a few minor differences despite my unfortunate resemblance to that conniving crime lord. For example, my eyes are completely black."

She raised an eyebrow and opened her bill to make what I deemed to be some sort of retort, so I cut her to the quick.

"And should that not convince your obviously sharp observation skills, you'll notice that I require the assistance of a cane to walk. Hardly an attribute of Jake Mallard's, though that is a situation I intend to remedy quite soon."

Her eyes were scrutinizing me now, most of the initial malice gone.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Jacob Mallard never lies. He merely withholds certain information until the proper time."

"And are you withholding information now?"

"Why don't you investigate that for yourself, madam?" I was enjoying this little banter with her, though I still had yet to discover who she was. Any moment I could toy with someone else was a moment I appreciated.

She gave me a wry expression behind the blanket of hair.

"I would...except you're choking me."

"Oh!" I exclaimed apologetically before I could catch myself. I removed my hand from around her neck and stepped away from her. "My sincerest apologies."

"So you're after Jake too?" she asked me curiously after catching her breath.

I was hesitant to divulge much -- my life is my own business -- but I gratified her with a nod. Normally it was as this point that I took my leave, but something about the way she tilted her head with a sardonic smirk twisting her bill made me pause and wait for her to make the next move.

"So who are you, then? I mean, what do you do?"

"Private investigation," I replied automatically, annoyed that I was giving away more than I wanted to. So I turned the tables. "And what about you? You have the upper hand knowing my identity and occupation. It's only fair that you offer up the same."

"Says who?" the woman said almost tauntingly. She was grating on my nerves which were usually placid, and it was all I could do to keep my tongue under control.

"All right, then. Perhaps an honorable inclination is far too much to ask at this day in age." I tipped my black fedora toward her. "I bid thee farewell."

"Wait."

Her fingers touched the crook of my arm and halted my advance. I turned to look at her expectantly, though inside I was enjoying the fact that she wanted to speak more to me.

"Annie Barrow," she stated simply, her hardened eyes now a bit softer as she looked up into mine. "My name, it's...Annie." Then she straightened up and stuck out her hand toward mine, her professional exterior suddenly placing an invisible wall around her. "I'm the new Chief Agent of SHUSH."

I almost inhaled my tongue. "What? You?!"

That superior smirk returned to her mouth, and I found I wanted to rip it off of her face.

"That's right," she said with an arrogant undertone enough to match my own.

"But you're a...you're..." I stammered, my mind reeling at the thought of a woman in the role of chief agent.

"How perceptive of you," she continued flippantly, reading my thoughts. I hated that. "And should that not convince your perceptibly sharp observation skills, you'll notice my badge."

My eyes darted to the golden insignia just over the left breast of her suit jacket. Damn. How could I have missed that?

"Well, it's been fun," I remarked sarcastically as I swept past her, trying to regain some of my dignity. "But I've got a case to solve."

"Indeed?" Both of her eyebrows arched in unison. "The missing machine, am I right? The one the Fearsome Five stole a couple of weeks ago? And, let me guess, you're trying to tie that to Chief Agent Gryzlikoff's murder."

I didn't grant her the satisfaction of turning back around so that she could see my incredulous expression. Instead, I decided to sweep her conclusions aside.

"I'm following a lead tomorrow night at the museum. Care to join me?"

I blinked. Why had I invited her along? But to my relief, she declined.

"No can do. I've got a lot of training to go through at SHUSH filling that overstuffed teddy bear's shoes. I don't have time for fancy parties."

I shrugged, playing it nonchalantly though I couldn't pinpoint where my strange behavior was coming from. "Perhaps another time, then. _Au revoir_."

"So long."

My cane again. The only sound for blocks. But all I heard was one word. Annie.


	5. Chapter 5

**"There," the blonde said as she pocketed a rather long feather. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" **

**I stared at her, slack-jawed, but as soon as she turned toward me I closed my beak with a snarl. "Big deal! I coulda done that!"**

**"Then why didn't you?" she stated snidely.**

**I muttered an unpleasant string of words as I whirled out of the room, my cape snapping behind me. The dame had made good on her word. She had made the hostage talk. And though I wouldn't admit it to anyone, she impressed me. But I still didn't trust her.**

**Our hostage slumped down, her restraints the only thing keeping her upright. While the girl finished up with her, I went to find the rest of my miserable compatriots.**

**"BOYS!" I thundered.**

**Instantly a horde of stampeding feet met my ears and they appeared in my sight within seconds.**

**"Look alive...tomorrow night we're gettin' neat and pretty! AhahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"**

* * *

"I assure you, Mallard, that SHUSH is doing everything we can at the moment."

"But you said you haven't heard word in three weeks, John. I would think SHUSH would put a little more effort into finding out what's happened to its most prized scientist."

"My agents are spread thin enough as it is," J. Gander said defensively from behind the office desk that dwarfed him. "Mob activity has skyrocketed in the past few days, and we're getting little help from the police."

"You know as well as I do that the police force is as crooked as the criminals they're supposed to protect the city from," I scoffed.

"Be that as it may," he continued dismissively, "I can't spare any extra manpower on the Bellum case until things die down."

"Can I at least get a look at the files on her latest invention?"

His head cocked to the side. "You mean the RMCD?"

"If by 'the RMCD' you mean the machine the Fearsome Five stole from you, then yes."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not, old friend."

A frown immediately consumed my face.

"Why not? You've always granted me access to SHUSH files before…"

"Not this time," he said resolutely. I knew right then and there that it was a lost cause. "I've been too lenient with you in the past. I'm allowing only certain SHUSH personnel access. We can't afford any more information leaks , especially since the device's disappearance. If its function were to become public, it could cause pandemonium."

"But surely…" I began, then started again. "You let Darkwing Duck-"

"The vigilante's relationship with SHUSH and yours are completely different," he bristled. Then he melted back into his usually zen exterior. "But not even he will have access. I'm sorry Jacob; that's my final decision. Believe me when I say it's nothing personal."

A few moments of tense silence passed between us while this roadblock to my investigation sank in. Finally, I allowed the frustration to drain out of me, and I smirked at the director.

"Don't worry about it. I just have one question more."

J. Gander's eyebrow rose. "Oh? And what's that?"

"Is Miss Annie Barrow working today?"

He opened his bill to reply but was interrupted by his intercom.

"Director Hooter?" sang the voice of J. Gander's shapely young secretary. "The mayor is on the line for you. Should I patch him through?"

His eyes panned up to me, and I nodded once to take my leave. He nodded in return, and as I exited I could hear him politely ask Dolores to put the mayor on.

I shut the door behind me and flashed Dolores a charming smile. I always wondered in the back of my mind exactly what was keeping J. Gander from taking advantage of that young thing just outside of his office, yet at the same time I felt gratified in the fact that I could bring a deep red blush to her cheeks. It made me feel twenty years younger, and J. Gander was always too absorbed in his work to really notice the opposite sex.

I headed down the main hallway that lead to the exit, but took a quick turn down a side corridor before anyone could take notice. I wasn't about to leave SHUSH without looking at those files.

"Hey stranger," a voice said cheerfully from behind me.

I turned and was surprised to find myself face to face with Annie.

"Oh, hi," I replied nonchalantly, though I could hardly deny how pleased I was to see her. "Fancy meeting you here. Been keeping busy with your training? I imagine they must ride you doubly hard."

"Not really," she said dismissively. The hint of her slender shoulders peaked up in a shrug beneath the suit jacket she was wearing. "Besides…I like a challenge." She smirked at me in a flirtatious manner, and for the slightest moment she had me entranced by the wrinkles just barely suggested beneath her intelligent eyes. She couldn't have been more than five years younger than I, but she certainly didn't look it.

Her weight shifted and she regarded me curiously. "So what brings you to SHUSH? The private eye career track no longer as fulfilling as you'd hoped?"

Her inquiry caught me off guard momentarily, but my self-imposed exoskeleton of calm quickly snapped up around me once again.

"Nothing so dramatic. I merely came to get a few answers…but it seems I am no longer allowed access to the information I need."

"Oh, you mean the files on the RMCD." She regarded me smugly.

I caught on quickly. She must have access being SHUSH's chief agent. My eyebrows rose as she flashed me a crafty smile.

"I can get you in," she said, "but we'll have to be careful. If they find out I helped you, I'll be in big trouble."

I nodded and began to follow her down the hallway when she suddenly stopped and looked back at me from over her shoulder.

"But you owe me, Mallard…"

I smiled at her slyly. I had just the thing in mind.

"When I said you owed me, I didn't exactly mean ice cream," Annie said with a toss of her red hair, "but I have to admit this is nice. I haven't had an ice cream cone since I was a little girl."

"It was the least I could do, my dear," I replied, watching her lick off a bit of her chocolate mint ripple. It was also the most I could afford.

"So what's your deal with Mallard?"

"Beg pardon?" The bluntness of her question made me choke down the walnut bits from my cup of Rocky Road.

"I looked up your records and newspaper clippings. Seems the only cases you bother to solve involve getting at Jake Mallard in some way. So what, you have some sort of vendetta against him or something?"

"You could say that," I replied cryptically, making sure to take a large mouthful of ice cream in case another question followed, which it did.

"Why?" She leaned forward with intrigue sparking in her eyes.

I let the chocolate, marshmallow, and nut concoction melt on my tongue and drain down my throat before I answered. I had always been a private person, more so now, and I didn't like people knowing much about me. It gave me a sense of security to maintain an aura of mystery. I liked to keep others guessing.

But I couldn't fool Annie.

"Is it something to do with your wife and daughter?"

Instantly my face darkened of its own accord, and she knew she had struck a nerve. To my surprise she reached her arm across the table and placed her hand atop my own. I stared at her blankly, for such kindness was both unwarranted and not altogether appreciated. I pulled my hand back and looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes for the briefest of moments. Vulnerable I hated above all else.

But though I had looked away, I could feel her eyes still on me.

"I saw their obituaries, but…what happened to them?"

"They were murdered," I said sharply, eyes burning as they darted back toward her.

Hers widened slightly. "How?"

"Jake," I answered her darkly. The sudden change in mood drastically contrasted the cheerful pastel surroundings of the parlor. She opened her beak, but I cut her of before she could speak again. "I don't wish to discuss it any further. I haven't spoken of them for quite some time."

She looked as if she wanted to press the issue, but thankfully she changed the subject. "So why exactly was it you needed to look at those files so badly?" She leaned forward conspiringly. "You're trying to link the Gryzlikoff murder to the stolen machine, aren't you?"

I couldn't help the look of surprise that sprang into my face. I had told no one of my investigation. She was quick. I liked that.

"I already have," I answered her smugly.

Again her eyes widened, and she asked me for the second time, "How?"

"I picked up a few incriminating documents from the crime scene that the authorities overlooked. They prove that Gryzlikoff was being blackmailed by Jake Mallard for information on the RMCD."

She frowned. "Blackmailed? For what?"

"I'm not exactly sure yet, but I intend on finding out."

"But Jake didn't steal the RMCD…the Fearsome Five did."

"Exactly. They must have learned of his interest in the weapon and beat him to the punch! The two mobs have always been rivals; everyone in the city knows that. What better way to get at your old man than to steal his plans right out from under him and take credit for them?"

She took a moment to let my conclusions sink in before giving me a skeptical look.

"I don't know…why haven't you turned in the evidence to SHUSH or the police?"

I scoffed. "Please. The police are a joke, and frankly I need to solve this little mystery solo so I can boost business."

She smirked. "So you're withholding evidence so you can get all the glory."

I mirrored her expression. "Exactly."

"Aren't you afraid of being arrested? It _is_ a crime, after all."

I waved away her suggestion. "The only crime I'll be guilty of is solving a case before the authorities."

"But aren't you afraid Jake will send someone after you to get that evidence back?"

"He already has. I can handle it. Besides, I hid the papers somewhere he'll never look."

She raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

I rested my chin atop the back of my hand as I leaned in toward her with a cunning expression.

"In the fire extinguisher."


	6. Chapter 6

_Things had been going so well until that worthless, conniving double of mine murdered my brother. My empire had been growing strong, my men were ruthless but trustworthy, and I had the love of the most beautiful avian in Saint Canard. Funny how things change. My brother, Nicholas, was two years younger than I, and was always getting himself into trouble. He was too impulsive, too careless, but that wasn't the reason he got caught. _He_ had set a trap for him. My disreputable twin. It had been meant for me; Nicholas got in the way. And he paid with his life. _He_ sent him to the electric chair._

_It was also thanks to _him_ that not long after my wife was murdered, too. My perfect, beautiful, shrewd wife who matched my intellect and cunning on every level. Thanks to Jacob, I lost the best thing I ever had. My son always hated me for that, for not being a stronger man. He knows nothing of the real world – thinks it's all a game to be played. It's a lesson I've yet to teach him._

_It's a lesson I made sure to teach Jacob long ago. An eye for an eye, old friend._

"_Are you certain?" I growled lowly amid my dark reverie._

"_Yeah. Pretty little thing. She gave him a handkerchief an' everythin' before they was shot at."_

_Instantly my interest peaked. Someone else wanted Mallard dead. "What?"_

"_Yeah. Guy up on the fire escape. I seen 'im run away. Looked like a goat or somethin'."_

"_And Mallard?" I demanded almost savagely. "Was he injured?"_

_My spirits sank the moment the lackey shook his head, and with a dismal wave I dismissed him. At least there was someone else who hated the P.I. as much as I did. It was a comforting thought…although _I_ wanted to be the one who had the satisfaction of rubbing out that loathsome duck._

_Agitated now, I picked up the receiver of my phone and dialed my best man. "Steelbeak? I have a job for you…"_

* * *

Tuxedos had never been an outfit I had taken a like to wearing. They were stiff and uncomfortable, in contrast to the business suits I wore in the office, but I'll be damned if I didn't look absolutely smashing in them. The suggestive glances I received from women alone were enough to convince me to make them everyday wear. I'd opted for a top hat this evening, which elongated my already high forehead in a distinguished manner, and the long black coat I wore dramaticized the breadth of my shoulders. I knew I looked the equal of Cluck Gable in this get-up, and date or no date, I was going to use it to my advantage.

"Ladies," I said smoothly with a tip of my hat as I passed a small group of young women chattering amongst themselves. Giggles erupted from their clique, and I smirked. Even at 55, I still had the power to bring a blush to any woman's face.

It was a quarter to eight, and the museum had pulled out all the stops in decorating for the gala event. A gigantic banner stretching over the thick red carpet proclaimed: **Ethiopian Splendor, Featuring the Rock of Ages**, and the towering marble columns were snaked with twinkling white lights. Standing just next to one of the columns was my date – well, really more someone of convenience than a date. A mallard wandering through corridors is less conspicuous with a partner at his side, and she hadn't been doing anything despite the short notice.

"Miss McCawber," I greeted her with a slight bow. I was many things, but a gentleman first and foremost.

She gave a small smile and curtseyed, and were I not preoccupied with a case I would have taken notice of just how lovely she looked in her glittering silver gown. As it was, I complimented her out of habit rather than meaning.

"You look fantastic."

A faint rosiness climbed in her cheeks, but I was already heading inside. Masses of people swarmed through the museum lobby like bees in a hive, buzzing with inconsequential gossip and exchanging scathing criticisms of the lower classes. I was used to this sort of drivel, as I moved easily up and down the social ladder, and ignored the empty, tangled banter. Instead I scrutinized the throngs of socialites for Steelbeak or any other member of Jake's gang even though I knew they wouldn't be stupid enough to be seen in public. They were on every wanted poster in the city and, despite St. Canard's lapse in justice, it would be an enormous risk to reveal themselves in the middle of an upper-class gala.

Miss McCawber sidled up next to me, her eyes wide as saucers. It was clear that she hadn't been to anything like this before although she certainly looked the part.

"Are you sure there's going to be a lead here on my sister? Do you think someone here knows what happened to her?"

All right, so I told her a little white lie to get her here. I'll make it up to her…eventually.

"Yeah, sure, kid," I said distractedly, earning a glare from my date. Apparently she didn't like nickname. "Try some of the hors d'oeuvres and some champagne."

She sulked, looking every bit the young woman just out of her teenage years that she was, until she caught sight of the large chocolate fountain at the end of the elegant buffet table. Noting that her attention was elsewhere, I resumed my analysis of the lobby, deciding in which of the museums six wings I would most likely find my informant. I immediately ruled out the newest exhibit, because it would not only be the most crowded but also the most heavily guarded.

"Mallard, old boy!"

I cringed and tried to slink into the shadows. No such luck.

"What are you doing here?" A burly, mustached gander lumbered toward me and slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side hug that resulted in a temporarily constricted airway. "Up to your usual antics?"

I managed to worm my way out of his grip and regain some of my dignity. "You know me, Mayor West. Always up for a good time."

"Up for some free booze is more like it," the major chuckled.

I smiled placidly, his comments rolling off of me like candle wax. I was used to such comments. The police force and many SHUSH agents insinuated the same of me, that I was a washed up detective turned alcoholic. In some ways, they were right.

"Yeah, thanks for that. Although next year why not skip the formality and have an open bar?"

While the city official tried to come up with a clever comeback to cover his dumbfounded expression, I weaved through the assembly toward my young companion.

"If anyone asks for me," I whispered to her as I lightly touched her elbow, "I'm drumming up business anywhere except the Industrial Revolution exhibit."

She turned her head, catching my insinuation almost immediately. "You're meeting someone there? With information on Morgana?"

"Not exactly," I said.

"I'm coming, too."

I blinked, taken off guard. This woman didn't mince words, at least where her sister was concerned. She was beginning to cramp my style.

"Miss McCawber, I really think you would serve a better purpose if—"

"And I think, Mr. Mallard, that no matter what you say, the only reason you have a case is because of me. I hired you to find my sister, and I'm not going to stand by any longer waiting for you to do your job. I'm coming with you to make sure you do what I paid you to do."

While the mayor's words hadn't phased me, hers prickled my feathers. I could see that my powers of persuasion would have no affect on this blonde beauty. She was more trouble than she was worth; however, she was right. I was indebted to her for paying in advance a month's rent for my office. And, being the gentleman that I was, I decided to even the score.

"Very well," I muttered gruffly with a slight smirk. "As the lady wishes." I offered her my arm, and after a moment's hesitation she took it.

I paraded her across the flawless marble floor and up the wide staircase to the second level, from which there was a magnificent view over the ornate railing. As inconspicuously as we could, we strode toward one of the roped off sections.

"Uh, excuse me?"

We paused, and our heads turned in unison like children with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Sorry folks, you can't go back that way. It's closed for the evening. You can view the new exhibit if you'd like, or you're welcome to return downstairs for refreshments. The curator's speech is about to start in a few minutes."

"Is there a restroom up here, my good man?" I inquired in my most formal tone. I believed that if I bluffed enough, I could persuade the young official to let us past. "The lady is quite in need of some relief."

The man hesitated for a moment, then recognition sparked on his face. "Hey…aren't you that drunk ex-cop?"

My eyebrows quickly shrouded my black irises. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Yeah, you were in the papers a while back. Didn't you almost run a kid over 'cause you were driving a squad car drunk?"

"That's enough."

"Sorry about your wife and kid…"

The increasing tenseness in my body didn't escape the notice of Miss McCawber, and she intervened not a moment too soon.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but…the restroom?" She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feigning a full bladder.

"Oh yeah." The young man blushed. "You can go ahead and use the one right around the corner there."

She smiled appreciatively, and his blush deepened. "Thank you."

I put my arm around her shoulders and led her away while the museum official moved toward the top of the stairwell to oversee the proceedings about to begin.

"Impressive," I complimented her.

She looked at me searchingly as we turned down the corridor, heading toward the early 1900's display. "You're an ex-cop _and_ an alcoholic?!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing…" I joked lightly, though my attention was on the approaching exhibit.

"But…but, but…" She sounded so distressed and so utterly confused.

I stopped abruptly, no longer able to suppress the annoyance I was surprised to find had been growing. "Listen, I'm the best detective in St. Canard. You want me off the case, that's your decision, but good luck getting any of those badge-wearing boors to –"

"Mr. Mallard," she interjected her voice so soft it caught me off guard, "I'm not ready to fire you just yet…" Her gaze grew very sincere, and in looking at her – really looking at her – she had to be one of the most genuine people I had ever met. "I have faith in you. All I ask is that you show me that that faith is warranted."

I gave her a hard look that was neither cold nor friendly. "Stay here by the steam engine. I need to speak with an informant."

She raised a questioning eyebrow, but did as I bade her. With little effort my footsteps fell silent on the shining marble floor as I moved through the exhibit, my senses heightened for any sign of the metal-mouthed cock.

I had passed into the Roaring Twenties before I turned and began heading back, just as cautiously. There was no telling what Jake's lackey had in mind, or if this was all some kind of an elaborate plan to draw my attention away from…

I stopped short. In coming around a wooden platform that explained Edison's electric bulb, I had a clear view of the steam engine display. Miss McCawber was not there. I frowned slightly, but didn't think much of it. Perhaps she had grown curious and gone to look at the exhibit. Or perhaps she was busy fending off that young museum official that had been so obviously taken with her. I inched forward, analyzing every nook and cranny before continuing.

"Miss McCawber…?" I murmured into the empty space.

The moment I heard the hammer click into place, I knew exactly where she was.

"Awww, miss your little goilfriend? Eheheheheheheheheh…"

"Let her go, Steelbeak," I snarled. With a swift turn I laid eyes on the braggart pressing an M1911 to her temple. Flanking him were a few more members of Jake's sin squad, whose firearms were aimed squarely at my chest.

"No can do, compadre," the rooster sneered. "Da boss has big plans for dis one."

"Her?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. It didn't add up. "What does Jake want with her?"

Steelbeak scoffed. "As if I'm gonna tell you."

"Which is just another way of saying that you have no idea," I offered with a knowing smirk.

His beady eyes glowered at me for an instant before he suddenly swept the blonde up in a fireman's carry and took off running, leaving me to deal with his armed posse.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the incredibly long absence on updates with this fic! I'd wanted to finish The Sins of the Father before continuing, and now that that's taken care of, it's back to this one! If you'd like more Jacob-ness, don't hesitate to read Sins! Please R&R.


	7. Chapter 7

"**Can it, you nobs!" I hissed. "If you blow our cover, I'll blow off your heads! Idiots…" More choice words seethed through my teeth as I led the rest of the Fearsome Five through the side entrance. A string of drugged guards trailed behind us, and I made sure Megavolt cut every alarm wire in half before we moved on toward the correct wing.**

**It would have been so much more entertaining to crash the fancy party and hold the social elite for ransom, but I had a goal that couldn't be compromised. There would be time for fun later…**

"**Right through there. You nobs cover me. I'll get the rod."**

**While my less-than-skillful lackeys fanned out across the room, their eyes bulging greedily at the ancient treasures worth millions just gathering dust behind the displays, I made a beeline for our quarry. It was solid gold, and flecked with rubies, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds, every type of valuable gem that made my mouth water. Those Romans didn't mess around.**

**I had watched Megavolt disarm the silent alarm, but I was certain that considering how priceless an artifact it was, there would be more to its security. Using extreme caution, I eyed the rod and its display from every angle. It seemed simple enough; nothing I couldn't handle.**

**It was with practiced precision that I pulled a glasscutter from my jacket and stretched it toward the transparent casing that barred me from my prize. Each inch brought me one step closer to my goal, one step closer to ruling St. Canard, one step closer to ending my father's pathetic reign.**

"**Negaduck."**

**The voice shattered my thoughts and caused me to jerk, sending the glasscutter on a tangent. I felt the feathers on my neck bristle instinctively, and I bared my teeth as I whirled around, expecting my old man.**

"**Well," I growled with a deep chuckle. "Look who's come out to play…"**

"**Where is she?" he asked me in a dark snarl.**

"**Who??" I snapped. He ignored my question.**

"**Where's Steelbeak??" The geezer was agitated now, and barreling toward me as best he could with a limp in his left leg.**

**In the shadows, his silhouette evidenced the lean limbs of a lifetime of excitement, danger, and regrets. His shape easily gave him the visage of the old crime lord, but as soon as he stepped forward, I knew. And I ground my teeth together. He wasn't my worthless father but his counterpart, the private investigator Jacob Mallard, with whom I'd had a few unmemorable run-ins.**

**Instantly I was raving mad. "**_**What?! **_**That prissy prick is here? Probably sent by 'dear old dad' to steal the staff before me. Well it's **_**mine**_**, ya got that? **_**I**_** got here first, and **_**I'm**_** going to use it to power the machine **_**before**_** him!!" I could feel the blood in my veins boiling as my feathers turned bright red underneath my mask. I didn't have time for this bullshit. A slow grin quickly spread across my face as I calmed. "And you, old man…you're our ticket outta here…"**

**Glass exploded over him and me as my fist plunged through the cracked display. I grabbed the rod and called to my men. "Get'im, boys!"**

**The old man was so hell-bent on Steelbeak that he hadn't realized the rest of the Fearsome Five had steadily been closing in on him. The expression on his face was priceless; I wish I'd had a camera. It would have made a much more fitting portrait than that stupid one hanging in The Old Haunt.**

**Quackerjack was the first to pounce. "It's plaaaaaytime!"**

**That got more and more annoying the more he said it, but I was too busy to be bothered. While they had the so-called detective occupied, I was about to slip away unnoticed…until an idea hit me.**

**The joker batted the widely known alcoholic around like a paddleball, then passed off the fun to Bushroot. Jacob sucker punched the plant-duck with an uppercut, and a couple dozen roots shot up through the museum floor to wrap around his limbs in retaliation. Unable to move, all the old bird could do was stand there and take it while Quackerjack batted baseballs into his gut and Liquidator smothered his face in a mass of water, nearly drowning him. I laughed gleefully as I watched. Sometimes those nitwits proved to be useful.**

**Suddenly a loud hissing sound filled the air, momentarily interrupting the assault, and a cloud of blue smoke appeared at the wing entrance. I glowered at the smog, knowing exactly what pestilence it brought. **

"**I am the terror that flaps in the night!" that insufferable voice announced.**

"**Move it, you nobs!" I snarled lowly. Instantly they backed off of the has-been cop, and he collapsed onto the floor, puking water.**

"**I am the gum on the shoe soul of crime!"**

**I ignored Darkwing Dolt; his presence fit perfectly with my plan. Chuckling, I pulled Jacob roughly to his feet. He tottered on his bad leg, but I only made him stand long enough so I could plant my fist square in his lower abdomen. As he jerked forward with the force of my blow, I landed another one on his jaw, and he toppled backward right through a large display case. Glass cascaded around him in a shower of deadly needles, and I knew the noise would bring security.**

**As he lay there amid a sparkling sea of debris, I leaned forward and hissed into his ear. "A little something to remember me by."**

**A few minutes later I heard voices combined with racing footsteps. I knew it was the interior guards that had been patrolling the other wings.**

**The smoke was finally clearing, allowing that idiotic avian a chance to scope the room, and I barked to the Fearsome Five to hightail it out of there. Frantic flashlights became visible, and as we charged back the way we'd come, undetected, I couldn't help but allow myself a bit of evil laughter. Not only had I come away with the rod I needed to power the RMCD, but I had planted a successful diversion for the authorities while I initiated my plans for the takeover of St. Canard. Once that was complete, I would FINALLY nab the title of Public Enemy Number One from Dr. Slug.**

* * *

I must not have been out for long. As the world came back into focus, I could decipher three voices chattering over my throbbing head, which only served to make it worse.

"We got him, we got him! I can't believe it, Bruce, our first robber! Should we call the cops yet?"

"No!" A duck wearing a purple mask retorted indignantly. "_I'm_ the one who got here first, _I'll _handle it!"

"Hey!" The guard named Bruce cried, eyeing me. "That's the guy I saw snooping around earlier! Only…" Bruce started looking around the room warily.

"Only what?" Darkwing asked hurriedly.

"Well," Bruce faltered. The hero was inches away from his face, staring at him intently. "Uh…I saw him up here before, only it was across the hall by the Industrial Resolution exhibit."

"Yeah, so?"

"There was a lady with him."

"So where is she now, hmmm?" Darkwing spat critically.

Bruce shrugged, but didn't allow Darkwing's impatience to get to him. Instead he began walking slowly around the room, surveying in shrewdly until he noticed the missing scepter.

"Maybe they got into an argument…"

"And what, pray tell, does a lover's quarrel have to do with anything?"

Bruce didn't answer for quite some time, and the intensity in the air was thick. He bent down to study the shattered glass, then walked back over to look down at me.

"She got the goods and made a break for it so he would get all the rap."

"An interesting theory," Darkwing said after coming out of a flabbergasted stupor. The kid had a solid idea, and there was no evidence to disprove it. At least, not until the police could come and sweep for fingerprints…if they even bothered to do that. It was clear even though I was still in a daze that the vigilante was impressed, and even a bit bothered that he hadn't come up with it first.

A pair of solid hands landed on my shoulders, and for a second time that evening I was yanked roughly to my feet. My mind was finally clearing, and I was met with the face of Darkwing Duck. It was the first time in a very long time that I looked my son in the eyes.

There was so much depth to them that I couldn't even begin to grasp any certainties to his character, but in the seconds I saw into him I watched the color darken with the flash of abhorrence that came with recognition. As he shoved me around and twisted my arms behind my back, I felt air pass over my face, and it was only then that I realized there was blood trickling over my features. It was no wonder the boy hadn't recognized me until then.

Bruce tsked as Darkwing fitted me with handcuffs. "What a shame, these ex-cops. You just can't trust anyone anymore."

I would have argued the arrest with my son, tried to fight for my innocence, but I knew my reasoning would fall on deaf ears. There was no room in my son's life for me anymore. This I had learned years ago, after the murders of my wife and daughter.

* * *

**The sound of the waves crashing relentlessly against the wharf drifted through the splitting wood that made up the old warehouse I was currently using as a base. My pathetic lackeys trailed behind me as I practically ran through the maze of hallways and down flights of uneven stairs to where we'd stashed SHUSH's top secret weapon.**

**The golden staff felt like an extension of my arm; the weight of its power coursed through my veins and spurred me forward toward the glory I so aptly deserved.**

"**Wait here!" I snapped.**

**Alone now, I pushed through the doorway into my private office and strode to the dilapidated closet, where I had been keeping a certain SHUSH employee detained. Her eyes shrank to slits as the light that filtered into the room invaded the small space she'd inhabited for weeks.**

"**All right, 'Doctor,'" I sneered, forcing her to her feet. "We're going on a little field trip…"**

**Reaching around her head, I pulled down a lever that stuck out of the wall and heard the gears begin to grind. Slowly the back wall of the closet slid sideways to reveal yet another staircase. I dragged her after me; I wanted her with me when I brought the RMCD to life...**

"**Let's see if you were a good girl and told us the truth about your little invention," I taunted her, gripping her upper arm until I could feel her quickened pulse beneath my fingertips.**

**It wasn't until we reached the grimy floor of the basement that I stopped short, choking on a malicious snigger. The place was empty. Completely and utterly void of the weapon that was the centerpiece to my glorious domination of this pathetic metropolis.**

**Rage bubbled up into my throat, and as I clenched my fists together a roar that shook the foundation of the warehouse loosed itself from my lungs. I knew exactly where my weapon was.**

"**DAMN YOU, JAKE!!"**

* * *

_Author's Note_: Whew! Bear with me, guys. One more chapter left and all will be revealed! Hopefully I've created somewhat of a good mystery. I apologize for my lengthy absence, but life has thrown a few curveballs and I'm just now settling in. I'll do my best with the finale! In the meantime, please R&R! I have changed the setup of a few of the chapters, and many of them have been edited. Take a look!


	8. Chapter 8

The curve of the top of my cane was a blur as I twirled it intently between my hands

The curve of the top of my cane was a blur as I twirled it intently between my hands. Though my gaze was directed toward it, my focus was not on the curved rod but on the worn wanted poster across the room. I was in the holding cell at the police station, and had been for about two hours now. Between the bars Jake's black-and-white eyes leered at me from underneath the bold 10,000 reward. We had been having a staring competition since I had arrived. There was nothing that filled me with as much revulsion and fortitude than looking into the eyes of my greatest foe.

Mostly I was angry at myself. It had been an obvious trap, and Miss McCawber had paid the price. I had believed I would unravel Jake's scheme by playing into it; instead, I had given him exactly what he wanted and expected. In this game of wits we were equally matched. What it came down to was timing and bit of psychology. Every so often one would catch the other in a moment of excessive pride, and that was the time to strike. I had been too absorbed in my adroit detective work that I hadn't actually been _doing_ it, and Jake knew that and had taken advantage of it so that he was free to follow through with his plan.

But now was not the time for self-depreciation. I had to think of a way to warn J. Gander.

"Hey cripple, you got a light?"

Ignoring the grating voice behind me, I wondered why the Fearsome Five had been there at the exact moment that Steelbeak and more of Jake's goons were in a nearby wing. I didn't believe in coincidence. They couldn't be working together…could they?

"Hey, I'm talkin' ta you!"

A burly canine with a massive barrel-shaped chest lumbered in front of me and shoved my shoulder, momentarily jerking me from my sitting position.

"If you can call that pathetic drunken slurring of yours talking," I replied calmly.

The prisoner snatched the collar of my shirt and wrenched me up to his eye level. "What did you say to me??" he snapped. His teeth were yellow and sharp, and his breath reeked of tequila.

"You know," I gagged against the stench, "I'm getting really tired of everyone forcing me upright. It's a bit rude, wouldn't you say? Now…unhand me or else you're going to find yourself with quite a few broken bones…and it will take more than a few drinks to numb the pain."

"Oh, a wise guy, eh? Break _dis_!"

I easily ducked beneath his meaty fist, and while he was off-balance, I threw my own punch to his exposed abdomen. My hit was accurate, precisely below the rib cage, and I could hear the air being forced out of his lungs. He wheezed, angrier now, and lunged to throw me off my feet. It worked. My back slammed into the metal bars with a sickening thunk, and he struck me in rapid succession. That is, until I clamped onto his fist and leapt to my feet. With a sharp tug I spun him around, keeping hold of his hand, and jerked his arm up toward his neck. I could hear the tendons strain and snap. It only took an extra little push to break the bone.

A pain-filled howl tore through the police station, and the officers on staff paused to turn in our direction. I kept going. I had had enough of low-lifes believing they could take advantage of Jacob Mallard.

Soon his arm wasn't the only thing broken. His foot. His nose. Two fingers. That's when three officers came in to remove me from the holding cell.

"Knock it off! Settle down, _settle down_, Mallard!"

"Trublood?" The familiar voice had cut through the adrenaline, and I heaved a few deep breaths before regaining myself.

My old cop friend looked at me with concern. "Yeah, man. What happened?"

I sighed. "I'm fine. Where's my cane?"

"Here." Trublood handed me the ebony stick, unease continuing to inhabit his eyes. "You're in luck, you won't have to go back to your friend over there. Someone posted bail."

I straightened myself, ignoring the sharp pain in my stomach where the cad had pummeled me, and raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Me." I turned my head toward the new voice, and was immediately struck dumb.

* * *

"**Listen up, you sniveling simpletons!" I barked. "Jake works out of Miss Abby's Bake Shop on Old McDonald Boulevard. I say we go over there and show him –"**

**The rickety phone on the wall rang haltingly, interrupting my plans. I was enraged at being cut off, but I was also curious as to who was calling. Maybe it was the mayor, trying to cut a deal since the city was still unaware of Jake's burglary. Or maybe it was Jake himself, calling to gloat. The thought boiled my blood.**

"**What?!" I snapped into the receiver. I had nearly yanked the telephone off of its wall mount.**

"**My, my, someone's in a bad mood," a smooth voice purred.**

**It was **_**her**_**. "What do **_**you**_** want?"**

"**I've kept up my end of the deal. SHUSH is yours…or it will be in about twenty minutes."**

**I had forgotten all about this little sidetrack. It only took two seconds for me to figure out how it would work to my advantage given my current situation.**

"**How?"**

"**I've rigged multiple gas bombs in the ventilation system, all set to go off at the same time. If you and you boys want to raid the labs and the records office, you'll want to bring masks."**

"**If this is a set-up…"**

"**Relax. I know you're a 'big, tough criminal.' Now, I'd like to stay and chat longer, but I've got to establish my reign in the upscale district. Ciao."**

**Even her irritating demeanor didn't pierce my sudden delight. I slammed the receiver back in its cradle for good measure, then whirled on my dark-haired hostage.**

"**Well, it seems I still have a use for you, doctor."**

* * *

_I looked at my pocket watch impatiently. She should have been here by now._

"_Hey boss!" one of my ignorant lackeys shouted from across the room._

_I rolled my eyes and ground my teeth together, managing to keep my temper in check. When I was in control of Saint Canard, the first thing I was going to do was hire a new, better set of men._

"_Yes?"_

"_It's all set-up; should we bring in the girl now?"_

_My trademark sinister smirk crept over my bill. "No, Horatio, I believe I will escort the lady personally."_

"_Escort? Isn't that some kinda fancy French food?"_

_I sighed heavily. It was hard working with such buffoons. "I believe you are referring to 'escargot'."_

"_Oh yeah, that's the stuff."_

"_Idiot," I muttered._

_We had kept our young hostage in one of the many small rooms in the back, and I relished every chance I got to revel in her helpless situation._

"_Knock, knock," I said sardonically as I entered the tiny space. "Are you decent?"_

_She scowled at me from the corner she was curled up in._

"_Aww, what's the matter? You don't like your room? Here, maybe this will cheer you up." I produced a small baguette from my coat pocket and tossed it at her. I laughed as I watched her devour it as if she hadn't eaten for weeks. "Well, I guess this wasn't voted the best bakery in Saint Canard for nothing!"_

_With a glare, she threw the remainder of bread at me, and I caught it before it could hit my face._

"_Feisty, aren't we? Save some of it for when that second-rate detective shows up for you."_

"_What are you going to do?" she asked quietly, and the fear in her voice satisfied me greatly._

"_Oh, you'll see…you'll see."_

* * *

"Why did you do it, John?" I asked as we both walked toward his old jalopy.

"Do what?"

"Bail me out. Isn't this interfering with 'SHUSH business'?"

"We're friends, aren't we?"

I shrugged. "Well, sure, but…I have to admit I'm a little surprised to see you."

"I was equally surprised to hear of your arrest over the radio. I know you couldn't have been involved in the robbery, but why were you there at all?"

"I was following a lead on a missing person case."

He paused beside the driver's side door with a raised brow. I smiled.

"All right, all right, it was a lead on Jake. His men jumped me and I ran into the Fearsome Five, but I bested them both."

"Is that why they got away with the Roman Candle?"

"The Roman what?"

I slid into the beat-up seat and waited until he'd started the ignition for an answer.

"It's a highly decorated scepter the Roman emperors used to emphasize their power. It's rumored to hold the spirit of the thirteenth Roman emperor, Leo."

"Why would they want that?"

J. Gander shrugged. "Why do they want anything? You know how often their acts of violence and burglary are randomized." He was quiet for a moment before asking, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

I shook my head. "No. Just a lot more questions."

"Well, I have a few questions of my own. The original files on the RMCD are missing."

I wasn't at all surprised. Though SHUSH prided itself on its security and its extremely high standards, that didn't exempt it from corruption.

"Who has access to them?"

"Just myself, Dr. Bellum, and my chief agent."

"And I presume Dr. Bellum is still missing? Any word on her whereabouts?"

"Nothing."

"Hmm. And what was the security like on them?"

"W-well, they were behind two sets of lead-lined locked doorways with separate codes necessary to open them. And even then, the cabinet they were stored in only opened with the correct key."

"Or a very nice set of lock picks."

Apparently John didn't appreciate my sense of humor; the rest of the drive was spent in silence.

On the way into SHUSH, I was met with a pleasant surprise. The chief agent, it seemed, was just getting off of duty.

"Ah, Miss Barrow."

She glanced at her wristwatch, gave me a nod, and smiled. "Detective."

"I'll catch up with you in a moment, John. I'd like to ask your chief agent a few questions."

The gander looked questioningly from me to Annie, but continued inside. "I'll be in the laboratory when you've finished."

I waited until John was inside before addressing Annie again. "Fancy meeting you here."

She raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. What brings you to SHUSH?"

"Apparently some files were stolen."

"Yes, this morning. I don't suppose you might relinquish the copies that you have from the late Agent Gryzlikoff's apartment…"

"I might, for a price."

She scoffed, then checked the time. "Figures."

I only shrugged. "Hey, a guy's gotta eat."

She regarded me silently with those intriguing hazel eyes, and I could only stare back with a blank mind.

"Mr. Mallard, may I ask you a personal question?"

I shifted my weight, breaking her spell over me. I never liked for things to get too personal. Still, what could she possibly want to know about me?

"It depends."

"On what?"

"On the question."

She sighed, a bit exasperated with my banter, but continued. "Did Jake murder your wife and daughter just to get at you? Because of the rivalry between you?"

Immediately all humor was gone from me. This was a topic I seldom enjoyed dredging up, but I felt somehow that it was important that she know.

"No. It was vengeance."

"Vengeance?" she repeated, her brow knitted slightly.

"I set a trap for him, one that would ensure his indictment, but I caught his brother instead. And it was he who suffered Jake's fate. Electrocution. Jake went mad when he heard the news and killed his own wife. He blamed me for both their deaths and went after my family while I was on a case. I caught wind of his plans an hour too late…I…couldn't save them.

"He was never convicted for it, but I knew it was him. They could never find the murder weapon. I've been trying to put him away for good ever since."

She moved forward with pity in her eyes, but my face was stone cold. I hated the look she gave me more than anything. It was the main reason I had taught myself to keep emotion at bay. That, and it was easier to move forward if I didn't allow myself to grieve.

"I'm so sor—"

"Don't," I snapped, a little more harshly than I meant. "Don't say you're sorry. I don't want your sympathy."

"And what is it you _do_ want, detective?"

I smiled darkly. "Jake's head on a silver platter."

Suddenly her arms were around my neck, and her beak was fiercely pressed against mine. I was so caught off guard, I could barely move. Still, I had to admit, she was a damn good kisser.

Just as my hands started to encircle her waist, she pulled back.

"Well," she said breathlessly as she glanced at her watch, "I'd love to stay and do this more, but I've got a craving for something sweet."

I smirked. "I'm not sweet enough for you, eh?"

She returned the look. "The last thing I would describe you as, Mr. Mallard, is sweet." With that, she tossed her crimson hair over her shoulder and sauntered down the SHUSH steps.

I watched her for a few moments before heading in to find J. Gander.

The meeting was boring, as usual. My old friend was much too serious, but I humored him with promises of helping his men with their investigation. It was hard keeping the irony to myself. But, as he said, we were friends.

On the way out, I happened across Miss Barrow's office. Telling myself I wanted to go in out of a keen investigatory sense rather than because I simply wanted to find out more about her, I entered.

The first thing I noticed was that it was neat and organized, quite the foil to my own office. The second thing I noticed was that the space was devoid of any personal affects. Either Miss Barrow had no need for personal knick-knacks and photographs or she wasn't planning on staying here long.

As I casually strode through the room, eyes passing over bare wall and empty desk, I thought about just how much I knew of its inhabitant, and I was not at all surprised to come up with little more than her name. She had been quick to extract my confidence, however, and that, admittedly, burned. Why had she been so interested in me? Naturally she was drawn to my charm and good looks, but there was no discernible reason she'd needed to pry into my personal life. Was it simple curiosity, or was it something more?

I opened the top drawer of her desk only to find a few sharpened pencils and blank typewriter paper. It was the next drawer that caught my attention. It was locked.

No matter. I could pick a lock in my sleep. This time I used a discarded paperclip, and when I had the drawer open, I was met with a peculiar sight. One that made the pieces begin to fall into place.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ Well guys, it looks like I lied. There's going to be ONE more chapter after this one. THEN you'll know everything, I promise! It was just getting to be too long for one chapter. Please R&R!


	9. Chapter 9

**From the shadows I watched as the old clock tower near SHUSH Central struck 6:00p.m. My miserable mob was crowded behind me, burning with anticipation. The good doctor stood at the rear, between Megavolt and Quackerjack. Liquidator moved forward eagerly as the last chime of the clock faded in the air, and I yanked his watery hide back into darkness.**

"**Where do you think you're going?" I hissed darkly.**

"**But boss," he whined in that pathetic wavering voice of his, "it's been twenty minutes! Time to see if results are as advertised."**

**I hated the way that idiot talked. But then, I hated everyone.**

"**It's time when **_**I**_** say it's time." I paused, glowering back at all of them until I was satisfied with their quivering, then grinned devilishly. "It's time. Put your gas masks on."**

**There was no one in sight to stop us as we walked through the front doors of SHUSH Headquarters. The first thing I noticed was the unconscious bodies. Most of them were huddled near doorways and windows, unsuccessful agents that had tried to flee the invisible gas. It brought a smile to my face.**

**As infuriating as that bothersome blonde was, she'd kept her word. SHUSH was **_**mine**_**.**

**I moved toward Dr. Bellum and seized her by the back of the head, curling my fingers into her hair and pulling her toward me. Her eyes started to grow defiant until I pulled out a pistol and aimed it at her forehead.**

"**Now, **_**doctor**_**…" I crooned lowly. "Which way to the lab…?"**

**She raised an eyebrow.**

**I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "You're gonna build me another weapon…a **_**better**_** weapon than the RMCD…just in case things turn sour when I confront that no-good father of mine." My grip on her tightened, and I could hear her gasp in pain. I loved the sound. "'Cause if you don't…I'll blow a hole right through your little dream of winning that Nobel Prize…" I cocked the hammer of the gun to make my point and watched her eyes widen. It made me chuckle as I shoved her back into the custody of my men. "Take her to the lab and **_**don't**_** bother me until she's done! I've got some things to take care of."**

**They hauled her off and I was left alone with the silent agents. I went room by room until I came across the one I wanted. Without caution I stalked into Director Hooter's office and was delighted to find the old bird drooling on his desk, completely out cold.**

**I removed a permanent black marker from my pocket. Oh, how I was going to enjoy this…**

**Two minutes later I was just finishing up the last half of a thick, curly mustache drawn across the director's bill to complete the hilarious face graffiti when I decided not to waste any more time on these shenanigans.**

**I had the Roman Candle, and according to the dame and Dr. Bellum, it was the only power source for the SHUSH weapon that Jake had stolen from me. I was going to use it as a bargaining tool. And if it happened that Jake somehow got the scepter from me, which was unlikely given my superior prowess, at least I had a hostage to build me a weapon that would surpass Jake's. Either way, this city would be mine.**

**I added one more coat of black to the left side of Hooter's spectacles, then set out for Miss Abby's Bake Shop.**

* * *

Something Annie had said led me to revisit the address of the bakery I had checked out a few days before. Though at that time it had seemed a remarkably unsuspicious location, with an even more unremarkable and less suspicious owner, I now knew it to be the base of operations of one of Saint Canard's most despicable desperados. As if the name alone hadn't been enough of a clue. Miss Abby's Bake Shop.

Our wives had shared names…

I clenched the strip of paper tightly in my fist. I could almost taste my revenge.

She had been flaunting her partnership with Jake in my face the entire time. I was supposed to find the address at the bar. I was supposed to have taken Miss McCawber to the gala. I was supposed to fall for the enemy. And like a puppet on a string, I played my part effortlessly. A grand fool.

She had been using various wigs, no doubt taking on many guises as part of Jake's plan, and her personnel file had been forged flawlessly. Oh, there had been an Annie Barrow due to become SHUSH's chief agent, all right. But the real one had not shown up for duty.

There was no doubt in my mind that she had already taken the evidence of Jake's blackmail of former Chief Agent Gryzlikoff out of hiding. Not only had she gained my confidence to throw me off, but she had probably deterred the Fearsome Five out of Jake's path as well, which likely explained their perplexing appearance at the museum. Damn her.

At least there was still time to stop them. The only question remaining was how to do it.

* * *

"_It's about time you got here," I growled. "Everything's ready. Is he coming?"_

"_If I played my cards right, they both will be," she replied, removing the red wig._

"_What about Darkwing?"_

"_I sent out a few rumors among the lowlifes on Yowler Street. Should keep him busy for a while." She shook out her raven hair and ran her fingers through it. I'd forgotten how enticingly beautiful she was._

_I moved behind her and placed my hands on her hips, but she moved away from me._

"_Later," she said shortly, all business. "They'll be here soon."_

"_At least I've got leverage on one of them…" I said with a devilish smirk. My eyes travelled up to my young blonde hostage, who was dangling precariously from the rafters with a chain wrapped around her midsection. I'd chloroformed her to make things easier. She hung limply, like a puppet without a puppeteer. Beneath her was a simple vat of boiling wax…hot enough to burn flesh from bone._

_I loved having the upper hand on my double, and I was confident in the fact that I would soon have the upper hand on my son. In a few minutes, I would be the most powerful mob boss in all of Saint Canard._

_Suddenly -- a spark of light from the farthest shadowy corner, at once followed by a thunderous discharge. A bullet graze my cheek, and it stung like a paper cut. The string of curses that came after gave away the identity of my would-be assassin._

"_Hello, Negaduck."_

"_Hello yourself, you bastard!" he screamed, charging out of the darkness and firing shot after shot in my direction. His eyes were wide and wild like a madman's, and I knew the anger had consumed him to the point of irrationality and foolhardiness, as it often did whenever he failed to kill me. Seeing the insanity in him that I so often brought forth gave me immense satisfaction._

_I dodged his sloppy aim with no problems and ducked behind a stack of flour bags before retrieving my own firearm and returning the sentiment. He found his own barricade behind the large metal mixer. We were quickly at a stalemate, but before I could order my men to start up the RMCD and take care of Negaduck, he yelled with savage triumph._

"_Aren't you forgetting something, old man?"_

_I met his question with cold silence. He laughed. From behind the mixer, I saw him lift his arm up, and in his fist was a golden rod, littered with jewels._

"_You can't arm the weapon without _this_ baby!"_

_Now it was my turn to laugh. "You've gotta be kidding me!" I howled. "You actually fell for that?"_

"_What are you talking about?" he demanded sharply._

"_You always were too hot-headed and impulsive. That's why you'll never measure up to me. That's why you've never been able to best me, boy! Who told you you needed to steal that to power the machine?"_

_He hesitated, and I basked in his failing confidence._

"_You never questioned me when I told you what Dr. Bellum said," Ava said smoothly, coming around the corner with a calculating smirk. "And you didn't bother confirming it for yourself. You completely took my word." She tossed her head, driving the nail in further. "I had blonde hair then."_

"_But…but…" Negaduck looked dejectedly from the scepter to her callous face. He recognized her now, and he knew he'd played right into my hands. _

"_You really think that ancient relic is the key to powering the machine?" she went on snidely. "For a supposedly devious and cunning public enemy, you're exceptionally gullible. I sent you to the museum to get you out of the way so that we could steal the weapon from you!"_

_Suddenly, his grip tightened, and his jaw clenched. I could see his feathers begin to change to a deep scarlet color. He was about to let loose a roar of unadulterated rage, but he was interrupted by a voice more commanding._

"**FOOLISH MORTALS!**_" the deep, numinous voice boomed seemingly out of the Roman Candle. An ethereal yellow light burst from the golden staff. Negaduck shrieked and flung the object away, but it floated in midair. "_**I AM THE SPIRIT OF LEO, THIRTEENTH EMPEROR OF THE GLORIOUS ROMAN EMPIRE! WHO WAS IT THAT DARED EXHUME ME FROM MY PLACE OF REST??**_"_

_In unison, Ava, my henchmen, and I all pointed at Negaduck, whose eyes widened considerably._

"_Uh oh…" He took off at a dead sprint, the ghostly scepter in hot pursuit, and it began bashing him over the head at various intervals._

_I chuckled. "At least that keeps him out of our feathers, right Ava?"_

_Hearing no reply, I looked around for her only to lock eyes with someone I was all too familiar with._

"_You…" I growled darkly._

_Jacob Mallard had Ava by the throat and was pointing a gun to her temple. _

"_Surrender, Jake, or I'll blow her head off!"_

_I tsked my tongue. "Jacob, Jacob…it isn't like you to resort to this…besides, if you were a tad more observant, you would have noticed that you are not the only one with a pretty girl as a hostage."_

_I watched his gaze flicker around the vast room until it landed on the blonde. He didn't show it, didn't falter at all in manner or expression, but I knew. I knew he was realizing he was greatly outnumbered and outgunned, and he was rethinking his action._

"_Poor little thing," I continued slyly. "In the wrong place at the wrong time…with the wrong mallard."_

"_Where's the chief agent??" he demanded._

_I watched the arm he had around Ava's neck tighten. I shrugged innocently. "Whatever do you mean? She's right in front of you."_

"_Annie!" he shouted. I loved getting to him like this, frustrating him to the point of losing his so carefully constructed exterior and weakening his self-control. "Annie Barrow! The woman who was _supposed _to be chief agent!"_

"_Oh, probably floating face-down somewhere in the bay," I replied offhandedly. "Unless Ava saw fit to give her a pair of cement shoes. Then she's not floating at all."_

"_Ava, huh?" he spat into her ear. "That your real name, or another one of your aliases?"_

_She pursed her lips together and didn't speak. Her defiance even in the most terrifying of situations was something I'd always admired about her._

_He gave up on her and moved to a new subject. I allowed him to continue with the charade of power if only to make his downfall that much harder for him to bear._

"_Why were you blackmailing Chief Agent Gryzlikoff?"_

"_Oh, come now, old friend. You know why."_

"_True enough. But I want those files back."_

"_Which ones?"_

"_The copies of the documents and transactions between you and Gryz, the ones that he had hidden in his apartment."_

"_Ah. You see, that's quite impossible, old boy. Ava destroyed them for me just this morning. You really should be more careful who you share the whereabouts of such vital information with."_

"_What did he do?"_

"_Beg pardon?"_

"_What did he do that he didn't want anyone to find out? What could he have done that was so terrible he'd betray SHUSH?"_

_I smiled broadly, daring to strut out from behind cover so that I could better see my double's face as I gloated. "A few years ago he was sent on a mission to kill one of F.O.W.L.'s top agents."_

"_Yeah, so?"_

"_So…" I inhaled deeply, taking my time delivering the information he wanted simply because I could. "He killed the wrong man."_

"_How do you know?"_

"_Because…he was sent to kill my next-in-command, who also happens to be F.O.W.L.'s top agent…Steelbeak. Steelbeak told me of the mix-up, and things went from there. You know as well as I do that if word got back to J. Gander that Gryzlikoff had slipped up, he'd be out of a job. And we all know he was practically married to SHUSH."_

_I could see Jacob's mind wrapping around this, busily fitting the pieces together, until one didn't quite fit. I was ready to answer before he even asked the obvious question._

"_Because Steelbeak was obviously still alive, Gryzlikoff gave himself a non-fatal gunshot wound and said Steelbeak had uncovered the assassination plot somehow and had ambushed him. That he'd barely managed to get away. Needless to say, the guilt weighed heavily on Gryzlikoff's shoulders…and I got to profit from that guilt. He decided to grow a backbone after a while and said he was going to tell J. Gander himself about what happened so that I wouldn't be able to blackmail him anymore. He wanted to rat out on our agreement. But I made sure that was quite impossible. By that time I'd gotten all of the information I needed, anyway._

"_Now why don't you put your gun down, hm? You're completely outnumbered. SHUSH is kaput. And half of the police force is already on my payroll."_

"_I'll kill her," he said darkly, pulling Ava closer against him and cocking the hammer on the gun._

_I shrugged. "That would be a real shame. But, you see, if you refuse to release her, I'll be forced to shoot you both. You don't want to be responsible for _two_ more deaths, do you?"_

_Before he could reply, I punched a button on the wall beside me to engage the pulley over the vat of boiling wax. The blonde was as good as dead now, and I allowed myself a dark chuckle. Jacob was analyzing the situation with his unreadable black eyes. Finally he loosed Ava from his hold, and shoved her forward at me. At a motion of my wrist, my men moved forward to begin tying him up._

"_Why her?" my double demanded as he watched the young girl near her fate. "You've wanted her dead from the start, didn't you? You sent that gunman to my office to kill _her_!"_

"_Wrong! I didn't send any gunman, but unlike him I _will_ succeed in killing her…unless you willingly surrender to me and turn yourself in for blackmail..and murder."_

_Jacob's eyes darkened underneath his feathery brow and he glowered at me. "Never."_

"_Then she dies!" I cried._

"_No."_

_I whirled at the voice behind me and barely caught a glimpse of a fist coming at my face. The punch landed hard, firmly jarring tissue and bone beneath flesh, and my head shot backward. I didn't have time to recover before the swift swipe of a leg knocked me flat on my back. My vision cleared quickly and I stared into the face of my attacker._

"_Ava…" I growled. With a quick jab of my leg she was knocked sideways, and I leapt to my feet, gripping my pistol tightly. We were about to lunge at each other when a third party charged between us._

"_Outta the way!" Negaduck snarled, immediately followed by the glowing scepter._

"**RETURN ME TO MY PLACE OF REST!!**_"_

_As soon as they passed, Ava closed the distance between us and kicked the weapon out of my hand. I watched it skitter across the floor and come to a rest beside the RMCD._

"_What are you doing??" I demanded._

_Jacob seized the opportunity and fought off my men. I made a mental note to hire henchmen with fighting skills the next time I had open recruitment. Even with his bum leg, it wasn't long before he had either driven the rest away in fear or had beaten them into unconsciousness. He pressed the button on the wall to cease the girl's descent into the wax, and now he and Ava both held a gun in their hands, aimed at me._

"_Take the girl and go," Ava commanded. "I'll handle Jake."_

_Jacob eyed her darkly. "Why should I trust you?"_

_She sighed exasperatedly, as if it were all too obvious._

"I_ sent the gunman. Hammerhead Hannigan. I found him at the Old Haunt, where I also planted a lead for you…"_

"_Why?" Jacob questioned, nodding toward the girl. "Why her?"_

"_Because," she said with a small, superior smirk as she backed slowly toward the stolen SHUSH machine. "The Radio Mind Control Device doesn't run on regular electric currents. It runs on a special kind of energy, something that drives particular…talents that certain people possess."_

_I scoffed from where I lay. "Please." I didn't believe in magic. "It's only a matter of time before she double-crosses you too," I snarled toward my twin. "Not that I wouldn't enjoy the look on your face when it happens."_

"_Shut up!" she snapped, and rammed the toe of her pointed shoe into my side._

"_You want the city for yourself!" I accused her. "I knew you were upset when I left the Negaverse, but don't you think this is a bit overkill?"_

_Her eyes flashed dangerously. I knew I'd struck a nerve in bringing up the past._

"_I'm going to use this weapon myself. I'm taking it back to the Negaverse with me…and I'm going to use it to stop SHUSH from destroying the city."_

_My jaw hit the floor. "What??" I knew she'd been upset when I decided to leave everything in the Negaverse behind to start my criminal empire here, but I never realized she'd switched sides. How _dare_ she double-cross me!_

_I watched Jacob's expression fall into one of relief, and even a little bit of admiration. If I had been any closer to him I'd have forcefully removed his bill and shoved it where the sun didn't shine. _

"_You," she barked, indicating me. "Open the portal to the Negaverse. Now." She shot the ground in front of me to show she meant business._

_I didn't move._

_She shot again, this time barely clearing a particularly sensitive area between my legs. I took my time about getting to my feet, but I moved toward the unusually large birthday cake in the corner and popped open the top, revealing the eerie green light that the signaled the ability to transport to another, parallel universe._

"_You have Morgana McCawber," my double said softly, as if just coming to a conclusion. Ava smiled._

"_Yes. And as soon as I get rid of her sister, the Friendly Organization for World Love will have the only power source for the machine available in _both_ universes."_

"_Well, my dear," Jacob said with that idiotically flirtatious grin of his as he cocked the hammer on his gun, "I'm afraid I can't allow the murder of an innocent."_

_She looked at him coldly. "No, you need a few shots of bourbon in you first."_

_The cunning, amused look on his face washed away. She was too busy glaring at him to realize Negaduck was right behind her. He'd somehow managed to ditch the possessed relic and wrapped a cord around Ava's neck. Her eyes bulged and she flailed but did not drop her gun._

"_This is MY weapon!" he shouted heatedly._

_While they were busy, I took one step toward the portal cake, then stopped myself. Grinning deviously, I raced toward my double and kicked him hard on the jaw, catching him off guard. His gun soared out of his grasp and knocked the button on the wall, sending the blonde back down toward the bubbling wax._

_I wanted to do more to Jacob, but my window of opportunity was closing. I had friends in the Negaverse. I could build a new empire there._

_I leapt up to the top of the dessert, intent on diving through the portal._

* * *

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!" A cloud of blue smoke appeared near the glowing cake Jake was standing on. I knew right away who it was, and was glad of his presence. "I am the propeller on the Aero Commander of justice! I am…Darkwiiiiing Duck!"

The costumed hero flapped his cape, took hold of a rope suspended from the rafters, and swung through the air. I could hear the wind shoot out of Jake's lungs as Darkwing's feet slammed into his chest and propelled him backward off of the portal.

"And your little trip has just been cancelled!"

Jake taken care of, I lumbered toward Negaduck and Ava, who looked on the verge of losing consciousness, and slammed into Negaduck's side, throwing them both to the ground. The villain rolled into an empty barrel, knocking it over, and from underneath it flew the Egyptian staff, now glowing red with fury.

"Oh great…" Negaduck groaned before high-tailing it out of the backroom, through the bakery, and into the city streets, the artifact conking his head every few feet.

"Darkwing!" I shouted, pointing toward Ariana, who was just a few feet from becoming a duck-shaped candle. "Get the girl!"

His eyes fell on her, and in seconds he'd grabbed the rope again and was swinging over the vat. He grabbed her around the waist and they both swerved onto a high beam. From there the hero could untie her and make sure she was unharmed. I had never been more proud of my son.

"That's the second hostage I've single-handedly rescued," he announced smugly as he came down with her in his arms.

"The first being…?" I asked him.

"Dr. Bellum, of course." He answered as if the fact were obvious. "I was going to see J. Gander about some tips I'd been receiving when I realized the entire place had been gassed…"

I ignored the rest of his prattling; Ava was becoming more lucid.

"What's he doing here?" she wheezed.

"I called him before coming here with an 'anonymous tip,'" I replied.

She coughed a little, then looked up at me coyly with those familiar hazel eyes. "Are you going to arrest me…?"

"Tell me where Morgana is."

"I need that machine, Mr. Mallard. An entire city is counting on me."

"Are you really from the Negaverse?"

"F.O.W.L. special agent, first class."

"F.O.W.L.?"

"We're on the good side. Everything is opposite there."

"Yes, I know. Wouldn't there be a Morgana in your universe just as powerful?"

"She was one of our greatest foes," Ava explained, her voice gradually becoming stronger. "She and her sister. But they were killed in a fire years ago."

"So the only source you know of for that kind of power…"

She nodded.

I shook my head. "Why kidnap her? Why not simply ask?"

"I couldn't let Jake or Negaduck get to her first, if they were to ever find out the truth. And she didn't believe me. I had to do something. Without her, there is no hope. We don't even have the technology for our own weapon."

"I'll go…" a small voice ventured.

It was Miss McCawber, having awakened from her unconscious state. Ava and I looked at her, then at one another.

I could hear police sirens in the distance, and wondered if Darkwing had let them in on the situation. I wasn't going to stick around to find out.

"You would do that?" Ava asked softly.

Ariana nodded. "My sister has ties here -- a boyfriend, family, a business -- but there is nothing to keep me here."

"Can you trust me?"

Again, the young blonde nodded. "I only ask that you please release my sister. Then I will help you in whatever way I can."

I looked at Ava intently. "Where is she?"

"6445 Red Rocks Boulevard. 6th floor, suite 130."

"That's the upscale district…" I mused. Then I looked over at Darkwing, who was staring out of the windows eagerly. No doubt hoping the press was going to show. "You! Hero."

He turned and eyed me a little sheepishly. "Look, about that arrest earlier. I want to say –"

"Get to 6445 Red Rocks Boulevard. There is a woman on the 6th floor in suite 130 who needs your help."

"Sheesh, how many hostages can this city have in one day?" he muttered under his breath before he held up his cape, looking for another smoke bomb.

"Wait," Ava said firmly. Darkwing paused. "I have something for you."

"You do?"

"Here." She shoved a plastic bag into his hands. The inside was slightly stained with gun powder, but through the material an ivory-handled pistol could clearly be seen. "This was the gun that Jake used to kill Mrs. Mallard and the daughter…"

Darkwing and I both blinked in surprise.

"How did you…?" we questioned in unison.

Ava looked solemnly over at Jake's crumpled, unconscious form. "He and I were very close once…" Then she shook her head decisively and all traces of emotion were gone from her face.

My son and I passed each other a look. One that spoke volumes as he settled the evidence against him inside his jacket.

"Now go," Ava said quietly, just barely audible over the sirens coming closer.

"Uh…you'll tell the reporters of my heroic rescue, right? Remember, Darkwing Duck is two words, not three, both D's capitalized…"

"Just go!"

"Okay, okay!"

In a burst of blue smoke, he was gone.

I moved closer to Ava. "Need any help in the Negaverse?"

"F.O.W.L. is always looking for a few good men," she replied slyly. "But how are we going to move the machine? It's too big…"

"I can help with that," Ariana offered gently. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. I blinked as I watched her hands begin to sparkle. In a barely audible voice, she chanted something in an archaic tongue then directed two beams of light blue magic at the RMCD.

The SHUSH device lifted into the air as if it weighed no more than paper, and as it floated over the open cake portal, its shape distorted itself until it was sucked into the narrow opening and disappeared. Ariana opened her eyes and seemed to grow dizzy for just a moment before catching herself.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

She smiled. "I'm fine, Mr. Mallard. It's…hard to explain."

"Well then. Shall we?" said Ava, already climbing the cake.

Ariana went in first. Ava looked at me almost admiringly.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Baby," I said suavely with a wink, "if there's one thing I am, it's a mallard who knows what he wants."

I watched her clamber in. I could hear the police cars squealing to a stop just outside of the bakery. My eyes passed over the scene once more. Jake and his men had been defeated. All of the hostages had been rescued. I didn't have to worry about paying the rent on my dilapidated office. My son would ensure revenge for our family. All thanks to Ava.

I would miss life in this Saint Canard. But there was an even greater adventure calling me on the other side.

I placed one foot firmly in, then the other, before vanishing into the unknown.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I feel as though I've rushed the last bit, and crammed a lot of information into one scene. If there are any questions or any loose ends I forgot to tie up, please don't hesitate to tell me! This IS the end of the story, but I will probably make revisions here and there before posting the final version to my website.

Once again, this story is in no way "canon" to my DWD universe. Look at this as you would the episode "Darkwing Doubloons" -- a story set in a different time period using the same characters for various roles. Obviously I changed some things about their pasts and such to fit into this new time period. I hope it's not _too_ confusing. The "canon" stories for my DWD universe would more likely be _The Sins of the Father_ and _The Other McCawber Girl_. This story (and probably more following) will be more out of fun than anything.

I hope y'all had fun reading this! I enjoyed writing it. I haven't tried anything in the "mystery/detective" genre in quite a while. Please R&R!


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